


Between Truth and Ecstasy

by ashes0909



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Confessions Under the Influence, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Truth Serum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:34:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25205542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashes0909/pseuds/ashes0909
Summary: James Buchanan Barnes was a snack. Did he know that? Tony felt compelled to make sure that he did.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark
Comments: 31
Kudos: 327
Collections: Tony Stark Bingo 2020





	Between Truth and Ecstasy

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for my S1 Tony Stark Bingo square "Confessions Under the Influence" - It's a bit late but I hope you enjoy. Thank you Ferret for the beta!

“No, _you’re_ sexy,” Tony drawled around a flirty smile, gripping the plastic baggie full of his goodies in his palm and slipping the hundred dollar bill in the man’s waistband. Half the price, because he had this one wrapped around his finger. 

“Planning on getting into that baggie here?” Goodie Man titled his head towards the club attached to the alley they were currently making their clandestine deal in. Goodie Man’s mesh shirt clung to his skin and his pupils were blown wide. “Want to party?”

Tony chuckled and shook his head. “I told you, handsome. This isn’t for fun, it’s for science.” He winked again and Goodie Man smiled, but his attention was already starting to wane, drifting back towards the music coming from the club. “Go have fun,” Tony said, leaning in to kiss the man’s cheek. “Til next time.”

Tony’s motorcycle waited at the end of the alley, Black Sabbath blaring in his helmet, and with a kick of his foot he was flying across the city. He eased onto the highway, leaning into the curves, the feel of the goodie bag searing into his back pocket. The last ingredient. The giddiness of it made his hand twist the engine faster, shooting through the night. 

The tower pulled into sight, and Tony slid into the garage. The rest of the inhabitants were out or keeping to themselves, which was why he planned his illicit meeting for this evening. No one around to ask questions. 

He waved the Black Sabbath to continue from the garage straight to the workshop. The croons of _Sabbath Bloody Sabbath_ accompanying him as he pushed open the doors. He’d left everything under JARVIS' observation, simmering and ready for the final ingredient. Tony lifted the bag over the bunsen burner and in went the yellowish brown crystals. The solution bubbled and hissed until a smoke emanated from the rim. 

There were a lot of people in Tony’s life that would frown at him for testing his creations and concoctions on himself. All their faces floated through his mind, but Tony still took in a deep inhale. How else could he get a true sense of the effects, on a practical level? He exhaled and-- _“Fuck.”_

“Sir, I’m noticing a change in your heart rate.” 

“Yeaaaaah,” Tony drawled. “I’m pretty sure I’m about to get really high.”

“Code Purple, Mr Stark?”

With every inhale, the drug crawled through his body like vines overtaking a building. Tony was that building; he felt solid underneath, like he could control it if he really had to, but why should he really, when the colors were so pretty and his fingertips running over his arms sparked starbursts under his skin? “Code purple,” Tony giggled, knowing JARVIS could see him, would monitor him, and already had a private medical unit on standby if needed. 

Tony felt like he was floating; he didn’t think he’d need help amongst the clouds. The assurance that JARVIS was there to watch over him, allowed him to settle in. Time to test this out. 

“JARVIS, ask me some questions.”

“What is your name?”

“Frank.”

“Incorrect.” 

Tony lifted an eyebrow at his AIs obvious observation then twirled back to the bunsen burner and breathed in another long inhale of the gas. This one went straight to his head and settled in, sparking its own reality into life. 

“Ask me another.”

“Where were you born?”

“Fra-Fra--” The lie was at the tip of his tongue, and the whole point of this was to push it through, but he couldn't see the point where everything felt so good--he ran his hands up and down his arms; it felt fantastic.

“Sir?”

“New York.” 

“I don’t think I need to inform you that that was the truth.”

He walked over to the couch and threw himself onto it, legs sprawled out and one hand idly tracing patterns on his stomach under his shirt. The touch, almost lighter than air, sent ripples across his skin, bringing goosebumps up to meet his fingers. The fine hairs on his skin rose while his stomach tensed then retracted, every beat of movement releasing its own moment of pleasure - the MDMA was doing more than lowering his inhibitions. 

The truth. He rolled his head against the couch, it was so soft, like laying on a cloud. “I’m not flying,” he told the ceiling, even though he’d wanted to say the exact opposite. He rolled onto his side and then kept rolling, because why not, rolling was fun. The floor caught his fall, and that was okay because it was cold against his palms and probably would feel better on his cheek too. Leaning over to test his hypothesis made perfect sense, even if his ass probably looked silly sticking up in the air. Imagine if someone would walk in right now. 

With his face pressed to the tile of his workshop, he snorted, because he probably looked ridiculous but it all felt so wonderful, even the ridiculousness. 

Along his line of sight there was a foot long block of vibranium, and into the sensation of touch came an overwhelming wonder that something like vibranium could exist. He stood, wanting to get closer to the precious metal, so closer he got, because why not go after what he wanted? The airy sensation in his mind--a mix of drugged haze and dizziness from standing too quickly--made him giggle as he crossed the workshop. 

Reaching out when the vibranium was near, it was smooth under his touch, the dark metal barely able to catch his fingerprints, it was so flat. Tony wanted to get out his tools and start to craft something, but he knew Code Purple meant the ones he needed would be locked out of reach for safety concerns. “Fiiiine, JARVIS,” Tony whined, then snorted again.

“I’m sorry, Sir, but I believe most of this conversation is going on in your head.”

“Oh shush, you love these antics because then you get to passive aggressively remind me of them later.”

“As you say, sir.”

Tony broke into laughter, grabbing the block of vibranium no bigger than his arm, and brought it up to his cheek. It felt cool too, lovely against his warmed skin. James’ hand would feel the same. 

Tony stilled, the wave of drug induced euphoria and carelessness churning over the unintentional and automatic thought of the man that resided in Steve’s quarters, just upstairs, bunking like it was the army in their part of the compound. Tony had seen photos of James during the war, and they were not easily forgotten.

James Buchanan Barnes was a snack. Did he know that? Tony felt compelled to make sure that he did. With the vibranium in hand, he made his way back across the workshop to his desk where his laptop sat open. 

He put the vibranium down on his desk and with an exaggerated flick of his hand and turn of his wrist, Tony pulled up a new email document. “Dear James Bucky Bear Barnes,” he said to the keys as he typed out the words. Memories flooded him of the man’s broad shoulders and resting scowl face, of the way his hair fell over his face when he’d look into the open panels of his arm as Tony tinkered. How he smelled, a deep, rich scent that Tony knew would only get sweeter if he brought his face into the crook of his neck. 

Obviously, James should know all of this.

> _Dear James Bucky Bear Barnes:_
> 
> _See the thing is, I keep thinking about your vibranium hand wrapped around my cock. Call it the thrill seeker in me. And it’s not like I’m just here fetishizing your arm. I’d gladly fetishize the rest of you too. Have you seen your abs, Mr. Frowny face?_
> 
> _I don’t think you hear it very often, and you should because on top of everything else, you have adorable ears, but sometimes when you walk into a room I just want to walk over and touch you. Somewhere, anywhere. Wherever you’d let me. I’d wrap my arm over your shoulders, pull you close to my side. Maybe wrap myself around you in a back hug. You’re so strong, I wonder if I could manage to get my arms around you entirely. I want to try._
> 
> _There’s also the problem of your voice. At first you barely spoke and I didn’t notice, but then one day I was asleep on the couch in the common area and you and Sam had just come in from the gym and there was your soft baritone, smooth in my ear. I think about your voice sometimes at night, when my hands are wrapped around my cock and up my ass, I think you’d like to see that, or maybe I hope you would, because sometimes I see your gaze linger, and I know its calculating but not in the way it used to be when you first moved in, so I wonder if maybe you would like to see me. Like that. Like many ways._
> 
> _Which brings me back to your hand around my cock. Or mine around yours, or both at the same time. What I really mean to say is, you’re gorgeous. But also, you’re hot. And let me take a second here because this drug is really making me want to run my hands over my skin as I think about you. Do you think about me? I think I asked already but here’s the thing - this truth concoction is *stellar*. I close my eyes and see a kaleidoscope of colors, they shift when I roll my head on my neck and there’s a blue gray that makes me think of the color of your eyes._
> 
> _What I mean to say is you’re beautiful._
> 
> _And also, hot._
> 
> _I think you’d like my mouth around your cock._
> 
> _Also, I’m thirsty. HAH. For you, maybe. For water, definitely._
> 
> _You should bring me some water but until you do I’m going to dance to Black Sabbath on my way to the sink. Byyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyye._

Tony pressed send and closed his laptop, a job well done. 

The music pulled his hips into a steady rhythm, the way it rolled over him, made his hands run down his arms and through his hair. He gripped tight, pulling so the sparks lit up under the skin, moaning from how good it felt. So good. It’d taste even better with water. 

Tony filled the glass three times, drinking deeply each time, before he felt quenched. Then, suddenly and with an all encompassing wave, he was overwhelmed by exhaustion. The couch met him only a couple strides away, and he collapsed face first onto it, softer than a cloud against his cheek. “I went flying,” Tony lied to the cushion, and then he let sleep overtake him. 

~~~

His head pounded him awake, each heartbeat punching him behind the eyes. Tony groaned, stretching on the couch, and tried to remember what day it was and why he’d fallen asleep in his workshop. Scanning the room, his gaze landed on the bunsen burner and it all came flooding back.

The music of the club and the floating sensation of the drug were the first to come back to him and Tony smirked, remembering how it felt coursing through his system. The lack of inhibitions, the way he felt like nothing could touch him, and it’d worked! He hadn’t been able to lie, not to JARVIS, not when he spoke to himself, not when he emailed--

Tony rolled onto his back, world turning on its axis and forehead throbbing as he brought his hand to press into his temples. 

He didn’t need to reread the email to know it had been bad. 

The workshop door slid open, and Tony groaned, the usually soft sound echoing like a cacophony against his brain. The sight of James Barnes walking through the doorway cut off every other sense entirely though, only to have panic rush over him when he registered that James held a glass of water in his hand and had a smirk on his face. 

Tony groaned, threw his forearm over his eyes, and willed the world away. 

The world did not appease him.

He didn’t need supersoldier hearing to know that James was shuffling over to him, casting a shadow over the couch. Tony waited, painful seconds crawling by until his self-control snapped and he opened his gaze again. 

Gray eyes with crinkled edges; James was more than amused. 

“Come here to bask in my obvious and temporary lack of sobriety and inhibition?” 

The shapely dark eyebrow shot up, amusement morphing into challenge. “Next time you should invite me, and then I can direct you away from waxing erotic poetics near dawn.”

Tony groaned, but internally his pulse quickened at the very blunt mention of Tony’s email. James had come down here, not replied to the email with a curt _What the fuck?_ or blocked him entirely. No. He’d come downstairs to his workshop. In a tank top no less, showing off more muscle and vibranium than anyone would if they were uncomfortable. 

Tony was hungover, but he was still a genius and this was a very simple equation to solve. 

James Barnes was somewhat into him, or at least interested in the idea of Tony being into him. Sitting up was not an option, with his head pounding, but he flopped out a hand until it hit the hem of James' gym shorts. “Hand over the water.” He reached out with his other hand, and left the one on James’ skin where it was. James hadn’t moved away either. In fact when he handed Tony the water, he turned his foot outward so Tony’s hand dragged more over his thigh than it had before.

Tony finished the water and stretched to put the empty glass on the end table behind his head. His shirt rode up; James’ eye followed it. Tony dropped his now empty hand along the bare skin and watched as James’ gaze flicked from the strip of skin back to Tony’s eyes. 

A beat of silence and then James chuckled, deep baritone driving a shiver up Tony’s spine. “My ears are adorable, huh?”

Tony kept their gazes locked. “Was that the most memorable part for you?”

The tension between them shifted suddenly, from amused and flirtatious to thick and anticipatory when James swallowed hard. “No,” he said, rough and low. 

“What was?”

The fingers of James’ vibranium hand twitched by his side, Tony’s gaze flicked to it for a moment, smirked, and then met James’ again. 

“It’s mostly smooth,” James’ informed. “Though there are some plates around the knuckles that could shift and pinch.”

Tony’s breath caught; they were actually talking about this. “That’s half the fun.”

“And here I thought you were going to be too hungover to flirt.”

They’d never called it flirting before, the banter that constantly volleyed between them. “Me? Never.” He finally sat up. “Though I’m definitely too hungover to follow through, at the moment.” His axis tilted as the workshop righted itself. 

James shrugged and plopped down next to him, sitting much closer than the sizable couch required. “Good thing I’m not a limited time offer then.” James slid his vibranium hand into Tony’s and squeezed it lightly. “I hear ordering-in lunch is a good hangover cure.

Turning, he caught James’ gaze. “Fantastic first date activity, too.” He winked just to see James roll his eyes with faux exasperation.

“The two-cent label on your armor says: genius, so you must be right. Let’s just completely ignore the fact that we got here because you drugged yourself into writing me an erotic email.” 

“Yes!” Tony grinned, while he pulled up a few to-go menus. “Let’s!”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come say hi over on [Tumblr](http://ashes0909.tumblr.com) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ashes0909fic)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Between Truth and Ecstasy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27583793) by [Ravin_Pods (Ravin)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravin/pseuds/Ravin_Pods)




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